[Pigging by Wilfrid: September 1, 2008]
There is a tavern in the town (altogether now!). Namely, Alta Taberna Paco Meralgo.
Except it's a bright modern tapas bar, and very good. I am indebted to Silly Disciple - a Barcelona resident - for the recommendation.
As well as for letting me know it's open on Sundays and great for families. I made a reservation, and was right to do so, because indeed - hungry families, children of all ages, were soon lined up at the door waiting for their supper.
The Eixample, where the old tavern lurks, is built on a grid pattern; but Ildefons Cerdà's design allowed for extra light and air by pushing back the buildings to make an octagonal open space at each crossroads. This makes the Eixample a little tiring to navigate on foot, but allows corner buildings to present a splendid façade to the plaza. Which is just what Paco does.
It consists of two large rooms, separated by the bar. Seating is at bar-high tables, and the bright lights, light color scheme and clean blonde wood design will make any Momofukued New York diner feel instantly at home. I lumbered onto a stool and called for the local Rovellats cava.
As we started to pick out some light bites from the long menu, our server suggested we might like to order the entire meal right away - otherwise the kitchen might get busy and the food come out slowly. I noted that it would also help them to turn the table fast, so I ignored him and rightly so (and he didn't mind a bit).
The first selections arrived, and what followed was too fast for the camera to catch. We really might have been a table of Vikings, just disembarked from a six month voyage and a diet of hard tack and worms. My family went through the presented plates like a horde of locusts.
Okay, well there was the usual pa amb tomaquet, toasted crisp. Local dry sausage from the pork center of Vic was excellent. I had ordered a special of parajitos al huerta in complete ignorance - I rather hoped they might be little parrots. I am no wiser, having researched the dish, which turned out to be some kind of vegetable served as light, greaseless tempura.
Croquetas of ham and chicken might sound boring. Spanish buffet food. These were the best I can remember eating, the interior a creamy mélange - not stodgy. And there was a small plate of fricandó, an earthy veal daube laced with tiny bolet mushrooms, here called carrroles. I don't particularly recall noticing fricandó on tapas menus in the past, but it's certainy popular now. We ordered it several times on the trip, as a guaranteed plate-licker.
Moving on to vino rosado, I seized the menu again and summoned three each of cigalas and "giant oysters" (seafood is ordered by the piece).
The cigalas were spot on, earthy and sweet; we were to encounter lesser specimens before the end of the trip. The oysters were large, but not to be confused with the six-inch giants I've been served in Chinese restaurants. They must have slid down attendant throats before I could whip the camera out.
A large helping of steamed mussels went much the same way.
Concentrating on my own appetite, I was relieved to find that the cuttlefish meatball was a hearty affair: the mandoguilla de sipia con berenjeinas, just to be formal, the berenjeina referring to the artichoke slices. In case you've missed it, the cuttlefish (sepia in Castilian Spanish) is not unlike a squid, with a large flat body. Somehow here it's incorporated into a slightly bready dumpling without becoming rubbery. The sauce was tasty.
Having enjoyed foie at Hisop and Cinc Sentits already, there was a danger of overdoing it by this point. Nevertheless, we managed to work through two of Paco's open-faced foie sandwiches - good, but pretty much just fresh foie on bread - as well as one with melted Brie. Glasses of Baldoma, a tempranillo blend from the Costers del Segre had arrived, shortly followed by a slice of Manchego to finish my meal.
Sweeter tooths turned their attention to the classic crema Catalana and various ice creams.
This was a feast, in a friendly, buzzing setting (if that's Sunday evening in August, they must be slammed at peak times). Well priced too, at
Such was the quantity of food, that a walk back down the Rambla de Catalunya followed. A very long, hot walk (it was a tropical evening). So long and hot that a liter of beer at the bar of Egipte was needed to ensure a dreamless sleep.
The walls of Paco Meralgo are decorated with charming, raffish line drawings, and you'll see them (some in animation) on the web-site right here.
